Ah, let come this stifling breeze now to ye all! Such sweet sap envelops my every pore, Shall I await for the ever fresh rainfall? For I fear the amber of daylight no more. Dormant they recline on fields of white cotton, while Hermes pulls his cart from the House of York, and though worries of the day are forgotten, they tackle me with ever increasing torque. Dear Lord! The sun, as the Gods, knows no mercy, it strikes common men on green parks all the same, the same as the priests from Westminster Abbey, wildly wields and waves it’s scorching blade of Flames.
Ah, let come a fresh breeze to the grass of Hyde, and may it blow through the city, far and wide.
(as imagined by this lumpenproletariat) When no bigger then innocuous, ho hum, happy go lucky generic black whole sonny and cher full pinhead size zit, thine pluperfect promising mysterious seat of pants whodunnit wordlessly wise wedded waywardness writ partly apportioned,
Emotional sequestration perseverates across thine time warped weft wise wold, sans interpersonal stagnation flourishes as oft twice told tale amidst derelict hollowed moldering sacrificed stranglehold did potential now bankrupt acquaintanceships/ friendships get out sold agonizingly excruciatingly jujitsu physically writhing front
Upon my visiting a steep rocky hill, I saw her- strange, candid and very simple; Falling apart from the lip-stick beauty; From insane odors; from the tog’s divinity – A natural doll, she’s a spirited jill. The rustic cast was